She should be doing something about the panic, she thinks. It seemed to be the role she was fitting into. But Lavellan can hardly name the source of either the panic or the confidence, or see to it that something's done about it. She's just met him. Not, Lavellan reflects, that has ever stopped someone from unloading all their troubles on her before.

"You don't dream," Lavellan states, very matter-of-factly. "You're a dwarf." So how would he know what that feels like? At least, she supposes, there's nothing else he could be. Someone, somewhere, had talked about half-dwarves with humans. But what would their connection to the Fade be?

And they'd have to be a little taller than the average dwarf.